Desapareces (you disappear)
by Firepower Phoenix
Summary: We are all held accountable for the choices we make in our life, and we have to live with our mistakes. But Faolan messed up - big time - and now he is stuck with an assassin, a mis-programmed cyborg, a ghost, and an assorted band of other misfits from different realities. One of them holds the key to fixing the broken timeline, and one of them is the key to saving everything.
1. Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time

**Hey, y'all!**

 **Firepower's back with an all new fic! This has been in the works for well over a year, as this chapter was written back in April... of 2017. The idea is nothing new, for Monkey and I explored multiple ways on how this story is to be executed in an understandable manner (it's going to be fun trying to explain the madman scientist, Faolan, and how he messed everything up), and finally I decided to dive in headfirst and see where it goes. The first chapter is a little shaky, as my writing has changed since last year, but I'm confident it will all smooth out soon!**

 **(Additional Notes: Although it's rated T, this fic will have clean language, but there** _ **will**_ **be scenes of violence and darker themes following. Banja is evil: you have been warned.)**

 **/ / \ \**

The room could not be considered normal, by any means. It was larger than any he had ever seen in his life - he'd witnessed numerous large ballrooms and indoor venues in all his years of existence - and it was entirely crowded with invited visitors within the first hour of required arrival. The walls, albeit bland and undecorated in comparison to the refreshment tables surrounding the edges of the dance floor, flashed an array of glimmering colors, moving in time to the roaring music that blared from the speakers in every corner.

Since this was nothing less of a grandiose party, overhead hung numerous brightly painted miniature disco balls, sparkling and multicolored, creating a circle around the ceiling centerpiece, which was a normal-appearing, yet extremely sparkly and reflective glass ball. It was said that the huge masterpiece alone was crafted with over one million dollars worth of shimmering diamonds, furthering the entire feeling of the party: ostentatious, outrageous, with only the most distinguished guests who were renowned by society allowed to attend. Those who were held in such high esteem, like their life was more of a prize than any normal person, as if they were more important than the people who acted as though they worshipped them. Though, really, it was only because of the amount of money in their pocket and their net worth. It was nothing more than the large, luxurious mansion they owned but never lived in, the parties and galas they were invited to and frequented, how many times their face could be plastered to a billboard or on the face of a popular magazine.

And in the midst of all these illustrious celebrities, he did not fit in.

If asked, he was a movie actor, who had spent his childhood in front of cameras and flashing lights and red carpets. He was one of those few who had won the lottery, lost it all in Vegas, and somehow still remained as wildly popular as before the money was carelessly thrown away. He was someone important, who had the brilliant idea to bring about _this,_ or had a fleeting thought in the middle of a mundane, boring lecture that _Something Important!_ needed to be invented - whatever that ' _Something Important!'_ was, it had aided in the growing of the world's technological age. If asked, he was anything but _himself._

It would not go over so well if, in the scenario that someone stepped up and boldly demanded to know his title - _Movie Celebrity, Up-and-Coming Musician, Famed Author for some abhorrently repulsive book that filtered in through the market searching for that specific junk nowadays._ He was **not** going to simply state the truth: that he was none of the above, and truly did not deserve to attend this festivity whatsoever. If anyone knew the right answer, he wouldn't have been so easily admitted at the front doors, the police would have been contacted immediately, and he would have been halfway to a prison cell at the moment.

Because his profession was what some called an _assassin._ Truly, he felt his title was more of a subcategory of the word: a contract killer. His occupation relied solely on orders given by those employing him, and once instructions were given, he was to act quickly and with level-headed judgment on _how,_ precisely, to take out whoever was chosen to be the victim of his task. Afterward, he received whatever form of payment they had offered, be it monetary or otherwise. He was a hired gun, a hitman. An elusive ghost-like figure who got in, achieved his goal one way or another, and got out with no one being able to trace the murder back to him or his employer.

Really, it wasn't half as bad as it sounded at first.

This occupation was the exclusive reason he attended such fine celebrations such as this, acting as someone more important and better known to the world. He was not Ace, the assassin, in these cases. He was Ace, the I'm-Just-As-Important-As-Anyone-Else-In-Here.

Get in. Find the specific target he was looking for. Accomplish the objective. Get out before anyone realized anything out of the ordinary had happened.

Normally, the task was quite simple. It didn't require a lot for him, for he was well experienced and had enough training in his lifetime, and therefore he knew just _how_ very careful he must be, how he must think several steps ahead in every move he made. Any little mistake could alert someone of his abnormal activity, and that would be horrifically deadly. Not only because he would more than likely be taken into custody and charged for murder, but because he knew, for sure, in that case he open fire on anyone who found out his secret. Anyone who witnessed him in his quick, skilled work would be shot dead immediately, as was required by those over his command. They did not want to be found, and nor did he. Consequently, it was an operation where stealth was essential, vital if he was going to get out of this alive.

With all this knowledge tucked away in the recesses of his brain, Ace had no fear that this assignment would be no different than all the others. Successful.

An hour and a half into the party and no one had noticed anything was off. He had already spotted his prey, and tonight it was a rather interesting, very _dazzling_ case. With his charming demeanor, he had wooed one of the womanly guests, at first starting with one of the stupidest pick-up lines that he had ever heard before moving on to various subjects that pleased _her_ to discuss - her position in society, her wealthy family, all of the achievements made in her time of fame. People loved to talk about themselves, and if listening to them drone on about every single boring event that had occurred during their lifetime was what it took to gain their trust and acceptance, Ace was not going to deviate from this course of conversation.

At the moment, the lady (who, Ace surmised from her continuous talk, probably would have been really kind and normal in character had the spotlight not changed her for the worse), was droning on and on about her profession in the acting career, how there were just _so many offers to choose from,_ how they taxed her to commit so many lines from so many jobs to memory, despite her obvious insistency that she could handle it. Ace nodded along, feigning interest, guiding them off the dance floor, in the direction of the refreshment tables. He was desperately in need of _something_ on his tongue other than retorts and admonishments to this woman for the career of hers she was explaining to him in great detail, which got worse and worse as she continued on.

"Would you care for a drink, my dear?" Ace asked, holding up a cup of bright pink punch - probably a mixture of some spicy fruit juice and some alcoholic beverage that no doubt he was too young to drink.

The woman paused, midsentence, staring at his raised paw as if she had forgotten an actual party was going on around the retelling of her life story, before nodding gratefully and continuing on where she left off.

Ace did not mind. Because, as she had accepted the offer of the drink, _now was the_ _time._ He would only be given one shot at this, it was his only chance to complete the assignment, to fulfill the orders given to him in a manner which did not attract attention.

Reaching into his well-fitted, traditionally black tuxedo, Ace withdrew a small white paper packet, not unlike a sugar sweetener used to mix in teas and the sort, and quickly made work of the pricked opening hole already made into the tiny package. He was in the process of tipping the contents into one of the tall martini glasses, nodding and humming along to the woman's story as if he were still riveted in the detailed scandals of her life, when something gripped the paw that had been, moments before, well hidden from hers and anyone else's distracted sight.

For a moment he had no reaction except to freeze, mid-pour. The little white specks, which were very, very miniscule, paused, only the beginning of the package having already been dumped. His hand righted, the packet turning so that any more of the substance did not spill out. It was not his own action, he could feel a tight grasp around his wrist, pulling it away from the beverage and the wine glass it sat in.

Ace, with a casual, patient smile, raised his free paw to draw the woman's story to a temporary close, before turning around slowly ... coming face-to-face with quite a large and intimidating beast of a man. Yet this did not halt his practiced appearance and act, and instead of cowering at the thought of being caught, he glanced calmly at his held wrist, the tightened grip that held him hostage.

"Excuse me, sir, but I do believe you are cutting off my circulation."

The man growled, but his hold did not relent. "What do you think you were doing to her drink? What's in your paw?"

Shrugging, Ace offered him a debonair smile, as if they were having a normal, jovial exchange instead of possibly being interrogated by one of the security guards, or whoever the host of the party had hired to "ensure the safety of all guests" (though he doubted the men weren't anything more than a show of decoration). "My lady would like a drink, and this here, sir, is extra sugar provided in the little black containers over there by the drink dispenser. After all, there is nothing too sweet for a such splendid woman as herself."

"I didn't see you take one from there," the man said, his tone suggesting he wanted nothing more than a fight, if not by words than by _physical_ measures. "And I have had my eye on you since the moment you walked in. You look far too young to be the required twenty-one years of age, and you have been acting . . . _off_ all evening."

The calmness never left his features, though this did slightly concern him. The woman who he had been with, who he had spent the entire time trying to convince to trust him in a manner that he could take her out silently, with no one noticing anything until too late, was watching the discussion with full interest. Thankfully, no one else had spared more than a quick, bored glance in their direction, before returning to their activities, their loud chatter and swap of gossip and what not.

"Oh, my dear sir, are you accusing me of bringing my own beverage sweetener to a party that already provided it?" Ace faked a gasp, drawing his unrestrained paw up to clasp over his muzzle, feigning surprise. "Why, wouldn't that be _rude_ of me, if I didn't trust the gracious host to have only the best, already sweetened drinks?"

The guard growled, snatching the packet out of Ace's grip within the time it took to blink. He released the paw from his powerful hold, inclining it and pouring the tiniest bit of white, grainy substance into his palm. He brought up hardly enough to even taste, placing it carefully to his lips, before immediately spitting it out in a glob of saliva onto the slick floors. This behavior was regarded with disgust from bystanders, but it drew interest almost instantly when one glanced over the event for longer than a moment. And of course, no one here had any sense of minding their own business, and before long they were beginning to flock and bring attention to the scene.

Which was precisely the opposite of Ace's goal - get in, go unnoticed, get _out._

"That is most certainly _not_ sugar, or any artificial sweetener," the man barked, leaning in get mere inches away from Ace's face. Though he did not want to come off as frightened or threatened, Ace could not help but take a step back from the loud intruder. "It isn't _salt,_ either. And I _know_ what both of those taste like, so don't try to play games with me! _What were you pouring in her drink?_ "

"Oh, you do know the distinguishable features between all the artificial sweeteners, _plus_ salt? Wow, you certainly were prepared for this one moment to come up in your lifetime, weren't you? And now that this prime time has arrived, why don't you suggest to me some more flavorful sugars to use. I certainly do not desire any less for myself or someone by far sweeter than any -"

He had begun to face the charmed woman, but both his sentence and his turn was halted abruptly. He frowned, his act of false cheer and conviviality dropping as he tilted his head in the direction of the the taller dog. His eyes darkened and warnings were flashing in the back of his brain, seeing several sets of eyes from his peripheral vision watching the disturbance as it started unfolding.

He already had an idea where this was going.

He had already guessed what was going to result as being found out by someone, mid-act.

That didn't mean he was fine that it had turned out this way.

"Excuse _me,_ sir," Ace spoke through clenched teeth, focusing solely on the man in front of him, trying to ignore the gathering crowd, the spectators who obviously had no intentions of meddling only with their own conversations. "But you are being very impolite and are disturbing this fine lady's evening, as well as my own. Please return to -"

The man's first mistake had been to interrupt Ace.

The second had been when he continued questioning Ace and his grand plan, and thus brought forth the unwanted attention of the fellow party goers.

The third was now, as the larger, more intimidating dog made an accusation that caused the entire room to gasp.

"We have been monitoring you closely since you first arrived, and our net searches brought up very little and terrifically unreliable information on the supposedly _famous_ Jeremy Mathison," he growled, now hardly a breath away from Ace's forcefully calm stature. "And you have acted more than a little bit suspicious, not to mention that we received concerns from an anonymous caller that _somebody_ might soon be attempting to visit with the renowned Miss Pollyanne, someone with _dark intentions._ "

And the fourth mistake he made was by calling him out as a deceiver, and moving to lay his paws on Ace's shoulders. That was where Ace drew the line, and where his plan went fully awry and he switched tactics - if you can't kill only one person and go without being noticed, kill them _all._

It was just a blur, a trained reaction that was no less instinct than breathing was, a second nature to him. He shrugged off the gripping paw on his shoulder, reaching into his dress coat and withdrawing a hand gun in the same movement. People who had assembled around the arising scene of promising drama and an excuse for future gossiping now shrieked in sudden fear, scrabbling and stampeding across the ballroom in desperation to get away.

Ace's face was neutral as he shot the man in front of him, not even watching to see if it was a fatal target or not before pivoting a half circle and taking down the pompous woman he had been talking to the whole evening. With that covered, he shot blindly into the crowd, before it came to his awareness that the more noise and single-shot destruction he caused, the more the security guards who he assumed were mere decoration advanced in his direction, hurrying to bring forth their own weapons.

It was clear to him that he was outnumbered. And desperate times called for desperate measures.

He sprinted across the dance floor, running too hard to concentrate on the people that swarmed away from him, screaming, bawling hysterically, creating a clear pathway for the grand windows that were opened. Opened, leading onto a balcony that stretched across the length of the building's western wall.

Dodging nimbly around the bullets that were aimed in his direction, Ace reached again into his jacket, frantically unbuttoning the first few buttons of the white shirt underneath and pulling off a taped object. It was in a matter of seconds that he had done this, skilled and long prepared for this moment for years, and in the time it took to bat an eyelash or for the crowd to cry out in even more fear than before, Ace had initiated the beginning of the explosive in his paws. A ticking took up all of his hearing, as he blocked out the screams and the demanding shouts of those pursuing him across the lengthy floor, and in his mind he began a mental countdown to the beat of the bronze watch in his dress coat.

 _... 8, 7, 6, 5 ..._ Second by second, heartbeat by deafening heartbeat. The windows were open and parted for a full view and access to the outdoors, for a quick breath of fresh evening air, and were mere yards away from him. He ran harder, the grips on his boots slipping on the slick flooring in his struggle to propel himself away from the security bouncers.

 _... 4, 3, 2 ..._ Ace reached the the wide door when he flicked the furiously beeping bomb over his shoulder, never once coming to a stop. That would be suicide, that would be a death wish, and after all that had happened tonight, he did _not_ feel like dying.

 _... 1 -_ The sound of the detonation overpowered the beating of his heart and broke all the concentration he had on keeping a countdown of the bomb. Ace had already leaped over the edge of the balcony and into the evening light when the might from the explosion sent him further than expected with a powerful gust of forceful wind mixed with shrapnel and debris from the positively destroyed ballroom.

He was falling now, head over paws, no longer a controlled jump. He knew how high up he was. He knew that the protected ledge stood over a pit of water that, at most times, resembled a calm lake with a current that was no doubt connected to one of the larger rivers surrounding the vicinity. It was obvious that the impact would be painful, and he was not looking forward to it. Dread filled his stomach as the world spun and air rushed past his ears, as the falling sun moved wildly in his vision. There was no focusing on one object, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps leaping off of a very, very tall window after setting a bomb to explode and finish the job he had started at the beginning of the evening was not the brightest plan he'd come up with yet.

Perhaps he would still get paid, for completing his job. While he had been, at first, skeptical to believing the promises made by those hiring him, he had no reason to assume that they would refuse rewarding him for a job well done. Because, while no one had predicted an ending to the night such as this, he _had_ achieved his main goal.

Perhaps they would not go back on their word, as many had done in the past, and fulfill their end of the bargain. He would be very grateful if this is what those who hired him did when he returned.

If he returned alive, that is.

The gust rushing past his face as he spun midair prohibited oxygen from filling his lungs, and as black specks danced across his vision, he could feel the watch pressed into his coat pocket burning like a low flame.

 **/ / \ \**

 **I apologize for any missed mistakes, the revising of this project takes almost longer than the actual writing. I can't promise chapters will be posted at a steady rate, because of work and school and life in general, but I'm going to try my hardest to keep a once-a-week schedule at least.**

 **Feel free to leave feedback, advice, and let me know what you think of assassin!Ace!**

 **-Firepower**


	2. Combination of Incantation

**Welcome back!**

 **If you were looking to know what happened to Ace after the end of Chapter 1, you'll be very surprised by this chapter. I promise, though, it's all going to come together soon, you just have give it a minute.**

 **There are a lot of details and hints sprinkled into this, keep your eyes open.**

 **/ / \ \**

 **F** aolan sighed and spared a single glance over his shoulder, where in the doorway stood his petite wife, leaning against the frame. "Not now, honey. I'll be up in just a few minutes."

"You really need to eat something, Faolan, dear," Edme replied with a hint of sadness etched into her voice. She shifted, her head turning in the direction of the empty hallway, outside the large office-converted-science-lab. "Your sons haven't seen their father for the past three days. He's been down here, working himself to death, living off barely a meal a day. You're going to be nothing more than a skeleton and a fading image in your little boys' eyes."

 _If only she knew..._

"Edme, dear," setting down the tablet, a glowing screen of stats that blinked brighter than the bulbs in the recessed ceiling lights, he strode over and embraced her in his arms. "You know I don't want to be gone. I want to see our boys grow up, I want to be there to watch you work your kitchen magic, to visit our friends together and show off my beautiful wife to everyone. But this ... this is my job, and without this, nothing - this house, our family, you and I - wouldn't be possible. You know I would give anything to be there for the three of you."

"I know. I know, honey, but ... it's just that we all miss you."

Knowing she couldn't see him, as her head was pressed against him, he squeezed his eyes shut against the prickling tears that watered on the surface. "This is it. I promise, after this one, I'm quitting forever. I'm going to find another job, something that allows me to be there for my family. I promise, this is the last one."

 _How many times had he made that promise? Not only to her, but to_ himself?

"Okay," Edme said simply. Her voice was a warble in the back of his brain, a commotion of musical notes that sparked unconditional love and a desire to do nothing but make her smile for the rest of their lives... "I ... I'll let you get back to your work, then. The faster you finish, the quicker we can continue on with a normal life, meaning we will once again get to see the Faolan Husky we all know and love."

When she was gone, the door shutting with a final squeak of hinges yet to be oiled, Faolan wanted to slump in a pile of defeat on the slick floor tiles. He wanted to close his eyes and clench his teeth against the pain of _knowing_ that life was moving on without him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to think of nothing but returning to ground level of his practical mansion, seeing the glee and utter pleasure in the eyes of his children as they ran toward him, as was tradition whenever he returned from the lab after an extended period of time.

He wanted, most of all, to fulfill the promise he made, that once he finished this last "order", their life style would become even semi-normal again. He didn't want to lie, but the truth was evident to him: this _job_ would never stop hunting him down. He would forever be haunted by those who held a priceless reward over his head, by those who refused to give him any semblance of a regular life.

What disrupted his desire to dwell in his defeat was the sudden beeping from the tablet previously in his paws. With fear building as the seconds passed, the consistent noise resounding in the hollow-feeling room around him, he scanned the red words flaring against the sterile white screen.

 _Reality Disruption: Detected_

 _Action Required: Unknown / Immediate Attention Required_

 _Affected Number by Disruption: Incalculable_

Each word, and many more that flew down the screen as he scrolled, spoke danger and impending threat. His sleep-lacking brain almost couldn't comprehend what he was reading, he struggled to grasp an understanding on the situation.

 _Okay. Okay, so the Realities have been hacked. That's fine, that's alright. We'll just ... reset it,_ Faolan's thoughts spoke as if there was an actual voice in his head, something more stony and cold than his own. Something more unbothered by the crisis than he was. _I will just go in and fix the problem, patch up a hole here and there, send a tracker on the hacker, and everything will be fine. Perfectly simple. And we will all be home before dinnertime -_

"Incoming comm from _the Redfeather Devil._ "

Faolan spun around, knocking to the ground the tablet, taking with it multiple papers that slid away with little noise. The automated voice, programmed by no one other than himself, came from the ceiling, but beckoned him forth to one of the many messaging screens hidden secretly behind a wall. He could not deny the draw that pulled him into pressing one of the buttons on the remote in his pocket, the urgency and rising worry flaring with each action taken.

If _she_ was calling at a time like this, there was no doubt about it - she had something to do with _this._

Which, of course, just proved the fact that his job was nowhere near over. Not now, not ever.

 **/ / \ \**

He ran as quickly as he could down the hall without slipping, skidding the remaining distance into a dark room that was open wide and of large circumference. The candles flickering in the rustic candelabras strung from the high ceiling gave the room a cryptic aura, giving light to the maps and symbols drawn into the walls by supposedly ancient writers, those who had inscribed their predictions for the future.

His eyes scanned the tables laid out in certain order that surely had some sort of meaning which he could remember if he focused on them long enough, for everything about this place looked familiar. Because it was his fault this existed.

Breathing deeply - obviously having run a long way and clearly out of breath - he leaned a paw against the wall and tried to steady himself, but it only took a moment before he ran out of time to do so. Because in that large room, he needn't search anymore. It wasn't necessary that he frantically try each of the three doors visible, all open hallways, that led to this exact location.

No more desperate hunting, because she was there - she, and the other person he had frantically been trying to save before the situation escalated this far.

"Catalyst! Catalyst, you do not have the commands to hurt him!"

The cyborg glanced his way, but didn't pay much attention to him as she continued holding the husky against his will, pressed against the wall with her paw wrapped securely around his neck. It was clear that the circumstance was dire and death was imminent for the helpless individual, and it was all Faolan's fault. All of this was.

"Catalyst, drop him - this is a direct command! Do not disobey, or I will -"

"Catalyst, let the boy go."

Faolan's head spun around to the center of the room, where from the darkness melted a tall, decorated red wolf, her face hidden behind a thin veil of lace, deep red velvet gripping her body in a tight-fitting dress. The crown atop her head sat crooked, a certain symbol of the Eclipsians, that seemed to him as an open display for how twisted minded these people were. If, indeed, they could even be classified as an order of rational creatures. Faolan saw them more as monsters than anything.

Despite the dread that built in his heart when he laid eyes upon her, he was relieved when the lynx listened to her orders and dropped Scout carelessly, standing motionlessly as he fell to the floor in surprise from the sudden release. Without doubt, Faolan knew that Scout didn't stand a chance against the cat-turned-robot, for Catalyst was made from bone marrow infused metal and was instructed not to waver from a command unless her master retracted the demands.

"Ah, how did I correctly predict that you were, indeed, planning to follow me, my beloved Faolan?" Banja strode forward, pausing underneath the centerpiece of overhead lighting, illuminated by the sparking flames. She was a vision of the haunting evil that lurked in every corner of the room, raised just high enough to see eye level with him. "I could almost count down the matter of seconds it took for you to arrive, and I was not a moment off, for here you are."

Faolan gritted his teeth and ignored her remarks. "What do you think you're doing, Banja?! He _can't_ be here!"

Tipping her head to the side in faux curiosity over his words, a smile fell over her face, barely concealed by the threads hanging over her muzzle. _Distracting._ "Oh? He can't? Then why, do tell, is he here right now?"

"I thought we agreed that when I gave you the tools you needed, you would leave him alone entirely! All of them! You said you wouldn't pursue this hopeless fantasy anymore, we had a deal."

Banja laughed, a sharp sound that, Faolan noticed from his peripheral vision, caused Scout to flinch in fear. "Oh, my dear, Faolan. Don't you know that _I_ have no more plans to so much as touch him? In fact, like I told you, I am completely done with him. I don't need him anymore."

"Then why is he sitting over there, after nearly being choked by the robot who isn't programmed to bring harm to _any_ living being? She is under your rule, and you made a vow that you would not touch him, nor his family or friends."

"I have no more need for him, it is true," she laughed again, folding her arms over her chest in a graceful movement. "Oh, but how I cannot stand the look of his face, nor the hatred he possesses for me. If I am to win over the hearts of everyone who does not already belong to me, I need him gone. He knows far too much about me and is too well-known, he would be an influence on all the others. Besides, I predicted correctly that by bringing him here, you would be present for this pleasant conversation."

"You need to learn to accept defeat when it's given to you, Banja," Faolan said, spitting her name like it was venom on his tongue. "Face the facts: you aren't becoming some sort of tyrannical ruler of the Universes just because you can control the Eclipsians!"

"But the Eclipsians consist of two entire kingdoms, and the Earthens are merely getting in our way. They are providing blockage from full-time Eclipsian rule, with us having to alter back and forth between Earth and her revolving window of stupid, mindless jurisdiction."

He scoffed, leveling his gaze with her covered eyes. "Stupid, you say? Translating to, " _successful_ because we don't viciously kill off anyone who we want, don't make sacrifices of innocent people to serve our _gods,_ and don't keep the residents of the world shrouded in fear"? The only fear we have is of _you_ \- you're an unknown danger, and the moment you present yourself as this new, supposed "ruler" of all the kingdoms, they are going to become cognizant of that threat, and you are going to be labeled as the enemy. They will turn their backs on you, and you will be forced to face defeat."

Banja smirked and stepped closer to Catalyst, who remained standing still as a statue but carefully watching Scout with a glint in her radioactive eyes that spoke volumes of how much she truly enjoyed toying with him.

"Those who don't bow to me, who don't obey what I say," said Banja, "They shall stand up against an army of only my strongest magicians, battling with power and dark magic that I doubt anyone but you and I should hold in our capabilities."

His frown intensifying, Faolan glanced at Scout to gauge the distance between the two of them, then back to the red wolf. "Sure, magic. But you don't know half of what I do, my _dearest lady,_ because most of what you think you know was destroyed long before you even came along. If only your father were around to ask, he would confirm to you that, indeed, you do not have what it takes."

"I may, and I may not," she shrugged, before gesturing to Catalyst. "But for the time being, I have this wonderful creation of yours, and I have someone who I have held a strong hatred for since the first I met him. He went against everything I tried to get him to do, he declined the offer to become as powerful as I am soon to be. But in the end, I think our hatred is -"

"The feeling is mutual," Scout mumbled, drawing everyone's attention to him. "You _snake,_ not a single person is going to listen to anything you say to them. Trust me, everyone knows how cruel of a person you are, after what you did to me. They won't take so kindly to you coming in and "taking over", and they're all going to listen to people they know rather than a supposed leader who flaunts herself in a manner that she isn't."

"Oh, and should I truly be worried?" She threw her head back in laughter, as if his voice alone were amusing. "If they are all as gullible and weak as you are, my lovely Scout, then we should have no trouble whatsoever with all that I have planned." Her humored demeanor dropped with a sigh, as she feigned sadness. "Sadly, however, I'm afraid that they won't have you around to confuse and convince them of anything other than I am the most fit and perfect leader of all three kingdoms. I can't have you return back to those pitiful people, not without your body being limp as a rag and cold as the arctic winds, now could I?"

Eyes wide with fear, Scout's head spun to face Faolan, silently pleading for his help to escape from this situation alive. The grey wolf's mind cluttered instantly with a thousand different possibilities of the Eclipsians methods of killing, and his heart rate quickened.

"Banja, believe me, you don't want to _touch_ Scout. As much as you think you are the ruling order and are essential to the existence of this entire lifetime, you don't understand the way the realities work! If you kill off Scout ... trust me, _everything changes._ This isn't just ending his life in a single reality, because you have the original, raw form of Scout. This version of Scout can never be copied or replaced. The amount of shifting this world would do, as well as _every other reality_ ... if he dies, so does everything else. You don't understand."

"Oh, so this pathetic pup is the key to the world, you say?" Banja skimmed a glance over him with scorn. "He's useless, that's a fact. He can't even defend himself. Just as weak and helpless as all the Earthens are."

Faolan growled, a sound of the hatred boiling in his chest. "You might see him as such, but I speak no lie when I tell you that the entire Universes revolve and rely on him being alive. His death, his _raw_ death in Reality caused before the allotted time he has alive, will mess everything up. It will be the end of all things as you know it. You won't have much to rule over, if you kill this version of Scout."

"Oh, sure," she smiled in a sickeningly sweet manner, "Couldn't you just be saying this so that I leave your precious experiment alone? I know how you get attached to things, and since your own family is basically untouchable now, why not just kill off this valuable asset of yours that, despite being so special, you haven't thought to protect before now?"

With a simple nod of Banja's head, Catalyst dove forward and again grabbed an unsuspecting Scout, who was too slow for the cyborg's speedy movements. He could offer no fight against her, she was more machine than human - reprogrammed to be violent in the care of the Eclipsians. Scout's sharp cry of surprise and terror sent a flash of truth and realization over Faolan.

If Banja _did_ kill him, not one thing would be the same ever again. There would be a complete shift in the entire ruling of everything. For one, the Eclipsians would hold far less power due to both classes' origins having been structured to survive like a separate reality. Secondly, not only would the raw version of Scout be eliminated from the equation, but with him multiple realities as well. They would crumble, shatter, splinter and implode. Doing so, ending Reality Scout's life before the set time, time itself would break, and then ...

"Catalyst, don't hurt him!"

His commands were laughed at in contempt by the red wolf, for Catalyst didn't even spare him her attention for a moment. She gripped him in a merciless hold, using one free arm to withdraw from a sheath on her back a large sword. Faolan's heart plummeted the instant the handle of glittering purple and the carvings of ancient times blinked at him in the candle light. He knew what she intended to do with this weapon, and for all the stars, he never wanted to see another death performed in this manner again.

"You really think the kitty is going to listen to you?" At her voice, Faolan's frantic eyes turned to Banja, who was watching him with amusement. "After you gave her to me, did you think it was going to be very difficult to fix her programming, tweak it a little bit so that she listened to me better? It wasn't at all hard to alter her to have a _strange, uncharacteristically_ obedientattitude to my instructions to kill whoever I wanted. Just how dumb do you think I am, Faolan?"

"Actually," he inhaled deeply, anger flashing over his face. "I think you are very dumb, with a side of stupid thrown in to the mix. You're foolish not to acknowledge or even understand the consequences of your actions as they are being played out. Do you ever wonder why I never created more than one Eclipsian universe? Do you ever question why you and your generations are marked as the biggest mistake of my life, other than resting all the universes on top of _his_ " he pointed to Scout, who Catalyst thankfully hadn't killed yet, "head?!"

Banja frowned and tilted her head to the side, as if she were truly thinking on the matter. "You know, I've contemplated that before; I was once curious as to why you didn't put us anywhere else but this reality that somehow ties into the Reality itself - which I feel was also a mistake, but I'm sure it was only because you thought you needed to babysit us, am I correct? But nevertheless, I do not care now. We have grown as an organization, as an army, and both the Lunar and the Solar are under my control. You have no power in a reality you created yourself."

"I have power in every reality I _protect,_ " Faolan spat with immense hatred, though beneath his facade of anger his stomach was doing flips and he was terrified for Scout's safety, his life, and the lives of all who his death would affect. And not just in the sense that his permanent absence would sadden them, but for how life as it was known now would be broken. "It only matters to what extent I can use that power. In some realities, I could easily crush an entire society with my paws, and the next I might not be able to make so much as a dent with my existence. It varies. But there is one thing I know for certain, and it's that if you kill Scout right now, you are going to pay for it. Every single thing as you know it, it's going to change. You have no perception of how the world will shift, because if you kill him in his raw form, you will kill him from _everything._ "

"And the Eclipsians will be stronger, or at least we will have a chance to be," she smiled, her lips curling upward in an evil grin. "I don't see much harm in taking a risk. What do you think, Catalyst?"

"I am here only to obey the commands given to me by yourself, master."

"How about you, my dear Scout?" Banja asked, looking sidelong at the husky, who, in Catalyst's impossibly strong grip, was rendered helpless. "How does it feel to know that, no matter if you can get your brother to save you in several worlds, and you can get them all to hate my guts in every lifetime because of what I did to you, I will always win?"

He grimaced as Catalyst shifted the blade against his throat, when he didn't give an answer.

"My master asked you a question."

Though he couldn't meet the purple eyes that were glowing like glass orbs, he glared at Banja from the corner of his vision. "Yeah, I heard. I think it was more rhetorical than anything, you know? Or can you not understand that concept?"

"Oh, no, I truly want to hear your thoughts," Banja said, marching over to him. The train of her dress trailed behind her like a sea of blood. She tilted his chin toward her so he was forced to stare at her, auburn red evened with crystalline blue. "You ... You were the ticket to reaching Faolan again. While you may have expelled me from your little friend group that I hated anyway, I still reached the amazing madman, the crazed scientist that took special interest in you. And alas, I have Catalyst now. You ... You were good for the time we were together. I think we made a great pair."

"Oh, right," he replied through gritted teeth, "How could I forget the _wonderful_ memories of being treated no better than dirt, under your control all the time, listening and believing everything you said that was utterly ruining my sense of self, of being my own person? At this point in my life, being surrounded by my friends and those who I know can display what actual affection is - anyone _but_ you - I don't believe in your lies anymore."

She released a laugh, the definition of pure evil. "So I assume you are not afraid to die, no?"

"Banja, don't you dare touch -"

"Catalyst! Finish him off!"

Her words were battled with Faolan's own. He shut his eyes tight and, on memory alone, called out words in several different languages, two of which no longer existed. It was like a spell being cast, and he was the only living person to know the combination of incantation, which was a good thing: he practically took time and split it. In point two seconds, he had made a mental decision that altered his location, where his physical body resided in the moment, and with it that of the person who was moments away from tragedy as well.

It was then and only then that Faolan accepted the realization that a severe disruption of time and Reality was much more forgiving than a complete collapse to everything he had created. As if he were purposefully recording these moments, he would forever remember the moment the sword cut through the air and he summoned more power from his mind than he had thought possible.

 **/ / \ \**

 **As usual, I apologize for any mistakes I may have missed while revising.**

 **What I particularly loved about writing this chapter was how the repercussions of Faolan's life choices are catching up to him, and he's seeing the mistakes unfold one by one.**

 **Scout being the "key to the universe" (in Banja's words, of course) will make a ton of sense later. Wow, I guess everything will! Hehe!**

 **Feel free to comment, or DM me on Instagram with your thoughts on the story so far! Ace returns in the next chapter!**

 **-Firepower**


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